


Smug Little

by eyemeohmy



Series: Sparkeater Froid AU [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Crack, Gen, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the most obedient pets can be little shits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smug Little

A large percentage of Cybertronians and Transformers (most of whom were religious or spiritual in some way) believed the more happy the memories, and more positive the thoughts and actions of a person, the brighter the ember.

If such a theory were true, that would explain why Rung’s ember was the darkest in the known universe.

Following this theory, one could say the brighter the ember, the sweeter. The darker the ember, the more bitter. Though this was, of course, never a proven fact; Rung had a number of patients, past and present, who consumed innermost energon for one reason or another. His old friend, Optimus Prime, frequently enjoyed drinking the innermost energon of his victims, in fact.

According to the ruthless Autobot leader–taste, and consistency, varied.

Still, it might have explained Froid’s taste in embers.

While Froid was enthusiastic to devour any and all embers, Rung was quick to notice a pattern–Froid was more violent, and more destructive, with certain types of Transformers, while others were more… routine. It soon became apparent it wasn’t due to hunger pains or laziness, but taste.

Froid’s dinner that week was a priest. A Decepticon undercover as an Autobot who helped sneak refugees out of prison camps. He was said to be a kindly spirit, and when facing certain death, he was not afraid.

His ember was also very bright. Therefore, possibly very sweet.

After Froid swallowed the priest’s ember, he went about ripping and tearing apart his chassis. Nothing unusual, but there was more vigor, and instead of trying to simply lick up any remnants of residual ember energy, Froid seemed to just be… playing with his food. Rubbing his face against bulging, severed cables and hydraulics, kneading deeper and deeper. As if he were trying to nest inside the hollowed out body.

It seemed Rung’s old friend had a bit of a sweet tooth.

Still, as nice as it was watching Froid mutilate a corpse, things were getting… very messy. Rung had called the cleaning drones in five minutes ago. The two robots floated in the air, exchanging what might have been nervous, confused one-eyed glances if they had any sapience. They held their cleaning supplies stiffly.

But Froid wasn’t stopping. The cybervore was covered head to stingers in energon, fuel, oil, and other foul smelling bodily fluids. Pieces of the priest were scattered across the office floor. He chewed and even swallowed circuits and actuator fiber.

Froid was in the middle of lazily clawing out the priest’s optics when Rung stepped forward, minding the giant puddle of energon. “Come now, Froid,” Rung said, “you’ve had enough. Let these kind drones do their job. You’re filthy.”

Froid did not respond. Rung frowned. That… was unexpected. Froid always listened.

“Froid. Come on. No more. You need to take a bath.”

This time Froid did look up. He’d ripped out an optic, now resting between rows of disjointed fangs. He slowly glanced back at Rung, a bored expression on his messied face. Froid bit down on the optic; it burst, lens and all, with a stomach-twisting crack. Optical fluid and watery energon dribbled down the cybervore’s chin, and he turned back to his meal.

Rung’s thick browplates knitted. “You’re being very disobedient, Froid,” he said darkly, “and you know what happens when you act out.” He flipped open a panel on his wrist, pushing a button.

A button that would activate the shock collar around Froid’s throat, but nothing happened. Rung’s glasses flashed. He thought a moment–ah. Enough energon must have seeped into the wiring and short-circuited the collar, disabling it.

Rung huffed. Well, this was certainly annoying.

Froid was finishing clearing out the body’s chest cavity. The drones looked at Rung expectantly.

“Froid,” Rung said, using the most authoritative, booming voice he could muster, “come. Here.”

Not authoritative and booming enough, it seemed, because Froid was still digging away at the corpse. He’d swallowed the second optic whole, now floating freely in his transparent abdominal chamber with the priest’s bright ember.

Rung exvented, angrily adjusting his glasses. “Fine, then. You leave me no choice.” He turned, heading into his personal quarters, mumbling under his breath. He returned shortly after, holding an electric prod in his hands. Rung walked over to the eating cybervore, switching on the prod. One end lit up, spitting out sparks and growing a powerful, humming charge. “I really hate resorting to such-–”

Froid moved quickly before the prod could push against his flank. He whipped around, biting down on the metal rod. Rung gasped, genuinely surprised.

“Go!” Rung growled, shaking the prod. “Let it go!”

Froid growled. He wrapped a tentacle around the prod near Rung’s hands, easily ripping it free. He tossed it at one of the drones, successfully electrocuting it. The drone fell to the ground, seizing and sputtering nonsensical high-pitched noises. Its partner just stared.

Rung slowly backed away from the approaching, stalking cybervore. He moved in on Rung just as he did his prey. Bared his teeth and raised his tentacles, blades spinning and whirring. Drool fell from his open jowl, burning the ground.

Rung’s fear quickly turned to fury. “Don’t you _dare_ try and attack me,” he snarled.

Froid seemed hardly threatened. But he’d managed to back Rung into a wall. Rung pressed against the steel surface, his ember thrashing in his chest. 

Froid was closing in.

Rung opened a commlink to security. Just as he was about to transmit an S.O.S.–Froid stopped a foot from the Autobot, crouched down, and… shook his entire body. Energon and liquids went flying, and Rung was immediately drenched and soaked. Froid shook a whole five seconds before settling, his tentacles still weaving. Though still a mess, so was Rung. Maybe even more so.

Rung blinked. He slowly removed his wet glasses. Only his optics and small circles of armor around his sockets were clean. He looked at Froid, then at his glasses, watching a very thick blob of oil fall from a lens.

They remained in silence for a minute or two. The wounded drone had finally stopped screeching and spinning in a circle, dying at last.

“… You…” Really, Rung didn’t know what to say.

Froid wasn’t much help there. He plopped down on his rear, two tentacles wagging. He licked a stripe of energon from his arm.

Rung’s ember felt tight. He stood ramrod straight, pointing a shaky finger into his quarters. “Shower,” he growled through grit teeth, “ _now_.”

Froid crouched down, ready to–-

“ _No_ ,” Rung barked, and fearlessly grabbed Froid by his disabled collar. The cybervore struggled, digging claws into the ground, as Rung dragged him into his hab-suite. 

It was truly an amazing sight–Rung, so small and physically fragile, almost too easily yanking a cybervore twice his size and weight around like he were a turbofox.

Froid managed to pull himself free, scampering to hide under Rung’s desk. “No!” Rung snapped again, grabbing the nearest tentacle and yanking him out an inch. He had to struggle, this time, Froid’s claws sunk into the ground. One hard tug on the tentacle bent his pinkie, however, and in that moment of surprise and pain, Rung was able to drag him out.

“You are taking a bath!”

Froid tried to grasp at the surface, but his wet hands kept slipping.

Maybe it wasn’t the tastiness of the priest’s corpse that made Froid suddenly act out, but rather having to take a bath.

Rung knew he didn’t like them, “But this is ridiculous!” He kicked open the door to the shower. His own private washracks; only high command had their own washracks. This one even came with a tub. 

Rung turned, and without his glasses, everything just looked like a writhing purple and silver mess. He wrapped his arms around what he hoped was Froid’s waist (it was his hips, but close enough), and tried hauling and lifting the cybervore up into the tub.

Rung had pushed his luck. This time, Froid’s strength proved superior. He was slippery in Rung’s embrace, but the therapist was determined and held on.  
Not for long; all this struggling, and Rung slipped in a puddle. He gasped, falling backwards and into the tub, successfully taking Froid in with him.

Froid grunted, landing right on top of Rung, legs and arms sticking in the air. He looked shocked.

“Nnn… Froid…!” The heavy grunting beneath Froid caused him to roll over in the tub. He went to jump out, but Rung, despite dizzy with a lump forming on the back of his head, reached over and activated the energy walls.

Froid yelped as his head hit the wall mid-pounce.

They’d both have to suffer. Anyway, Rung needed a shower now, too. Froid seemed to calm down, sitting, tentacles wrapping around him. Finally admitting defeat. He watched, sullen, as Rung switched buttons and turned knobs.

Cleansing solvent poured down from three shower heads above, but Rung bitterly pulled one loose from the ceiling, connected by a winding rubber hose. He turned the spray of solvent on Froid, head bowed and sulking.

“Are you sorry now?” Rung scowled, squinting beneath the pouring cleaning solution. “Was all that futile struggling worth it?”

Froid replied by opening his mouth and retching, hacking up energon and bits of metal at Rung’s feet.

“ _And you over-ate_!”


End file.
